A Short Drop And A Sudden Stop
by Dinosoaring
Summary: A backstory for my favourite character, James Norrington! His life in the Royal Navy, how he grew from a boy, to a soldier, to the scourge of piracy in the Eastern Caribbean! Mostly OC's, and Young Norrington!


So I had the urge to watch the Pirates of the Caribbean movies recently, and I realised that Norrington was just the most underrated character ever, and I desperately needed more stuff with him in it. So here I am with a bit of a back story for our dear Commodore, his early life, and how he changed from a boy into the soldier that would become the scourge of piracy in the eastern Caribbean. Will be mostly OC's, and Norrington's age will range from about 14-18 for the main part, so I guess, young Norrington OC? A quick disclaimer, I obviously don't own any of the characters from PotC, and I also took some information that I thought was interesting/important from the PotC wiki page. I hope you enjoy!

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 **Chapter 1: Small Beginnings**

"Norrington, James!"

All eyes fell upon the boy whose turn it was to enter the naval recruitment tent. Most watched him jealously and longed for it to be their turn already. Others watched him nervously, dreading the moment their name would be called, wishing they could go home. As for James, he could barely keep a broad smile off his face, or stop his hands from shaking with excitement. He had been waiting for this moment for what seemed like his entire life. Extricating himself from the group, he strode confidently up to the tent, pushed the flap aside, and entered.

There was a rather old and fat man with spectacles sitting at a desk. He seemed to be writing something. It mustn't have been very interesting, as the man looked exceedingly bored. Without looking up, he motioned to James to come closer.

James frowned as he moved forward. Officers of the Royal Navy weren't supposed to look like that. They were supposed to be strong and noble, ready to lead their men bravely into battle and defend their country from filthy pirates. This man looked as though he could hardly make it down the street, let alone fight a pirate.

"James Norrington, is it?"

"Yes, sir"

He examined James through the spectacles perched precariously at the end of a rather bulbous nose.

"You wouldn't be the son of Lawrence Norrington by any chance?"

"Yes, sir." He was sure the man knew exactly who he was, but it would have been rude to say so.

The old man nodded. He seemed a little more interested now.

"He was a good man, your father. A good Admiral, God rest his soul."

"Thank you, sir."

Truth be told, James didn't have many memories of his father. As Admiral, he was often away at sea, sometimes for months on end. When he was home, he was usually far too busy to spend much time with his son. With no siblings, and a mother who had died when he was very small, he should have been lonely, but James didn't mind too much. Aside from lessons, and assorted menial tasks his father deemed important, to "build character", James had spent most of his days having mock swordfights with the other young boys, or they would go swimming in the freezing waters of the North Sea. Sometimes they would all pile into two small sailboats and have miniature battles, the pirates versus the Navy. He was pretty much always on the side of the Navy, although they usually lost. James didn't mind this too much, but he often thought that he and his "crew" would do much better if they would just do as they were _told_.

What distinct memories he _could_ recall of his father would most likely stick with him forever.

Such as the time James, about five or six years old, bored of play fights and seeking a real adventure, snuck aboard his father's ship on a mission to capture a Pirate Lord, Edward Teague. He thought it would be terribly exciting, and it was for a while, but in the midst of a chaotic battle between Teague's crew and his father's, James was knocked overboard. He swallowed a lot of water, which rendered him unconscious and caused him to develop a terrible fever afterwards. He later learned that Teague had saved him, which, even as a small child he found ironic. The most memorable part of the whole affair was his father's rage. Never had James seen him so angry, before or since. He realised when he was older that his father was mostly angry at himself for letting such a thing happen, afraid for his son, and humiliated that he was indebted to a pirate.

Another memory that stuck with him was, in fact, one of the last he had of his father, alive anyway. He and James were watching the new cadets set off to begin training. When James had remarked that he wanted to be a soldier just like his father, that he wanted to protect and serve his country, his father had looked at him solemnly. He had knelt before him with both hands on James' shoulders and said these words;

" _You will need to be brave, son. There are men out there who are savages, and they want to destroy your entire way of life. They are uncivilised, heathen, thieving, filthy pirates, and when I have gone to a final rest, it is you, I hope, who will carry on the banner of civility and order, and help the Crown and our allies in the East India Trading Company eradicate their slime from the Seven Seas."_

James had replied that he would make his father proud, but by the look in his father's eyes as he regarded his son, he could tell he already had. The following day, Admiral Norrington had set out on a perilous voyage, and the next time James saw him, it was through tear filled eyes, as bagpipes played mournful dirges, and his body was slowly lowered into the ground.

Although he didn't remember much about his father, James had learned a very clear view of right and wrong from him, as well as how to be a gentleman, and, most importantly, how to respect yourself and others, and thus earn respect.

The old man clapped his fat hands together, snapping James sharply out of his reverie.

"Right! To business! How old are you lad?"

"Uh...Thirteen sir, but I'll be fourteen in a month."

"Excellent…you seem rather tall and strong for your age…how tall are you, d'you know?"

"I'm about five foot nine sir, and still growing. I'm plenty strong and used to physical labour. My father always said hard work builds character."

"Quite right, too," The man spoke gruffly, nodding his head in approval. "I assume, considering your sire, you have adequate sailing and swordsmanship skills?"

A wry grin worked its way onto James' face.

"They are adequate, sir."

"Yes, yes…excellent…well, I can see you're a healthy sort of lad. One final question then."

The old man stood suddenly. Well, as suddenly as he could, considering he had to extricate his rather extensive bulk from the desk and chair. James found the process rather fascinating.

"Do you, James Norrington, swear to serve and protect your King and Country, no matter what the personal risk?" He stuck out a hand expectantly.

James took the meaty paw in his own and shook it firmly.

"I do, sir."

A smile spread across the old man's face. He rubbed his hands together happily.

"Well, excellent, excellent! Just head on out that way, there's a good lad. You'll find your new comrades waiting, and then it's a simple matter of signing a roster, reporting for training, so on and so forth."

As James started to make his way out of the back of the tent, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to meet the gaze of the old man. There was something in his eyes that James couldn't quite make out. Sympathy? Sadness? Maybe the man was simply nostalgic, thinking back to when he joined.

"You make your father proud, eh? He's watching over you, son. You make him proud."

"I intend to, sir."

With a respectful nod to the old man, James exited the tent and went to meet his new comrades.

The old officer chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"Got a bright future ahead of him, that one. If he's anything like his father…"

He heaved himself back down into his chair and examined the list with a sigh.

"Brookes, Charles!"

James examined his new comrades. They all seemed to be roughly the same age as him. Some looked around nervously, while others looked as bold as brass. James figured he looked to be a mix of the two.

Upon leaving the tent, he had to sign a roster held by a young soldier. A small thrill ran through him when he signed his name onto that sheet bearing the Royal Navy insignia. It was permanent now. He was officially a cadet in service of His Majesty, King George himself. He was then instructed to wait with the rest of the recruits. From what he gathered, they were still waiting on one more cadet before their group was full. He returned to examining the fellows he would likely spend the next several months with.

The sound of the tent flap moving broke through James' careful study, and that same thrill flowed through him once more. Finally! He turned to watch the last of his peers sign the roster and join the rest of the group, standing quite close to James. Briefly acknowledging the soldier with the roster telling them all to stay put for the time being, he examined the boy next to him. He was a stocky sort of fellow, maybe an inch or so shorter than James, but much broader, and he looked slightly older. He was rather tanned, no doubt from sailing under the sun, with slightly curly, sun-bleached hair, and a light smattering of freckles across an open, honest face. His eyes, James noted as they met his own, were an interesting hazel colour. Suddenly realising that he had been caught staring, James dropped his gaze immediately, and shuffled his feet awkwardly. A sly voice spoke from beside him.

"If I were a lass I'd be a real stunner, wouldn't I?"

James' head snapped up immediately, a shocked laugh bursting from his lips before he could stop it. The other boy laughed heartily.

"The look on your face! Don't worry, I've been glaring at every poor soul who's passed by me today, trying to figure out who's decent and who isn't." He stuck out a hand. "I'm Charlie. Charlie Brookes. You can call me Charlie or Brookes or Charles if you must, I'm not particular."

James shook Charlie's hand, a smile spreading across his face at the prospect of a new friend, and a good one at that. He liked this boy.

"James Norrington."

"Bit of a mouthful, that."Charlie screwed up his face thoughtfully. "How about Jim?"

"Because making my name two letters shorter makes the word of difference." James responded dryly, a small grin on his face

With another laugh, Charlie clapped a hand on James' shoulder.

"Jim it is! So, tell me Jim, whatever possessed you to run off and join the Navy?" He lowered his voice conspiratorially, throwing James a knowing look. "You're not in any kind of trouble I hope, good sir Jim?"

"Not that I know of," he answered, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "I joined to honour my father. Whatever possessed _you_?"

Charlie paused, his eyes darkening suddenly.

"I suppose I joined because of my father too. Only, not to honour him, mind. He's a nasty fellow, and I decided I'd be better off without him."

Not knowing how to respond, James merely nodded awkwardly. He sighed with relief as the soldier reappeared, ordering the group to follow him. They set off at a brisk pace, their steps quickly falling into sync as they marched through the town, towards the docks. There was something oddly comforting about the steady rhythm of feet hitting the ground in unison. It gave James a sense of being a part of something larger than himself.

As they neared the bustling port, several large ships loomed into sight. The most beautiful of all was docked at the far end of the port. Larger than the others by far, she was absolutely stunning in the sunlight, painted with a striking gold and navy colour scheme. As their group came to halt in front of the magnificent vessel, James met Charlie's eye. They both grinned excitedly at each other before focusing their attention on the man standing at the top of the gangplank.

He was exactly what an officer should look like. He appeared to be middle aged, with a tanned, weathered face from all his time at sea. His eyes were sharp, missing nothing. He stood tall and proud, with perfect posture, his head held high. His impeccable uniform was that of a captain. James, suddenly self-conscious, tried to stand a little straighter, and he noticed many others doing the same.

Just then, the captain began to address his new recruits. He had a booming voice, one that expected to be obeyed no matter what.

"Welcome, cadets! My name is Captain Maynard. You shall all spend the next few weeks serving under me on this excellent ship," He gestured to it proudly. "The HMS Neptune!"

"Those of you who already know how to sail will be expected to follow orders quickly and efficiently. Those of you who do not know how to sail, well, I suggest you become a quick study, as you will be expected to learn, and learn quickly. You will all be expected to work hard. I accept nothing but the best from my crew, and anyone who is not willing to perform to their utmost ability should leave now, and not waste anyone's time."

There was a challenge in his eyes as they passed over the group, as if daring someone to leave. After a few tense moments, his craggy face broke into a smile.

"Welcome to the Royal Navy."

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Please let me know what you think, and whether you want me to continue this story! I really like the idea of young James and how he develops into the man we know (and love). He obviously wasn't always so adept at suppressing his emotions and focusing on the task at hand. I also think there are aspects of his personality that aren't really shown in the movies. Those are two things I'd really like to explore. I think young James is really adorable XD Anyways, please review, and thanks for reading!


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